


Jack in the Box

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine watches Karofsky’s every move, down to the millimeter, his heart racing. He feels as though his muscles are actually ticking with the anticipation, because he doesn’t know which way this will go but can see that it won’t be good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack in the Box

**Author's Note:**

> Written for whatstheproblembaby, a ficlet winner in my “Yay 1,000 Followers” giveaway on tumblr! <3
> 
> Prompt: protective!Blaine

Blaine imagined something different for his tour of McKinley. He has been here with Kurt just once before, but only briefly and externally. The courtyard had been gray, cold, unforgiving metal and stone. The caustic encounter they experienced on the stairs did nothing to make the place seen any less so, though tempers had run hot and emotions high.

He has pictured McKinley as a war zone of sorts since then. He imagined something dirtier, less maintained maybe, something more bleak and fitting for the things he knows have gone down inside these walls. After all, just like that day on the staircase, Kurt has struggled here, fought here, and had countless intangible things taken from him here. But the interior of this school is bright and spirited in the dim after-hours lighting. Cozy and peaceful, even.

Blaine glances over at Kurt as he guides him through the halls. Kurt looks at this place nostalgically, fondly if Blaine didn’t know any better, though Kurt still seems rather reserved. But Blaine can see it in his eyes and the little quirk to his lips: whatever sadness tints his nostalgia, the nostalgia is there, all the same. And nostalgia always makes things more pleasant in memory than they were in reality, but Kurt is not naive or a coward, so any place he sees this way couldn’t have been _all_ bad, could it?

Blaine doesn’t trust it. It seems like a false sense of security, but maybe that’s the key to McKinley’s cruelty. That was certainly how his old public school operated.  

Brittany and Artie pass by, thanking them for coming and telling them to go get good seats for the show, and Kurt stops in his tracks, bouncing on his toes a bit as he watches them disappear inside the choir room. The expression on his face tilts; it becomes lonelier and brighter at the same time, going wistful as his body leans in his friends’ direction.

“Aw, you miss them,” Blaine observes aloud, keeping his tone light and sympathetic. Kurt misses _them_ , not McKinley, Blaine makes sure to say, because only that much makes sense to him right now.

Kurt’s face is knowing and affectionate when he smiles back at Blaine, his admission unspoken and loaded with something that isn’t quite sheepish but isn’t defiant, either. There’s gratitude there, too, because Blaine listens, even when Kurt isn’t talking.

A quiet moment passes between them, a split second of just _seeing_ each other. Blaine can’t believe he took so long to get here with Kurt, because the way Kurt looks at him stops him in his tracks every time.

“What the hell are you two doing here?”

The voice is like a scratching record, throwing a cool mask over Kurt’s features and raising his shoulders while Blaine clenches his fists inside his coat pockets. They turn and stare into the face of Dave Karofsky, who glares back at them as though they’re the ones committing some grave transgression just by standing in his hallway.

“We’re here for the benefit. Don’t tell me _you’re_ going.” Kurt’s expression is open and unassuming, but his tone is dismissive and annoyed.

Karofsky narrows his eyes, his mouth twisting with derision. “I wouldn’t be caught dead. I was pumping iron in the gym and one of the guys told me you two were here, spreading your fairy dust all over the place.”

Blaine’s fingers twitch inside his pockets.

This... _person_ , Blaine supposes, is the reason Kurt was forced to leave McKinley. He _violated_ Kurt and made him unsafe. He’s the reason Kurt flinched at loud noises for the first month that Blaine knew him. He set fear deep and constant under Kurt’s skin, made him anxious and afraid enough to leave his friends and, in tears, pour his heart out to some boy he just met instead. It’s strange, now that Blaine knows Kurt so much better, to imagine his strong, courageous boyfriend with such steel in his spine doing that in front of a stranger, but that just speaks to the extent of Karofsky’s torment.

There’s no reason for Karofsky to be here now. He could have gone home, could have avoided them altogether, but he didn’t. He sought them out, looking to—well, Blaine doesn’t know, but he found them for a reason, and Blaine suspects it isn’t for a friendly chat. Blaine watches Karofsky’s every move, down to the millimeter, his heart racing. He feels as though his muscles are actually ticking with the anticipation, because he doesn’t know which way this will go but can see that it won’t be good.

And Kurt, for all that ice in his voice, has no defensive—or offensive—stance whatsoever. Kurt stands there with his hands behind his back, leaving himself vulnerable as he watches Karofsky but faces Blaine. Like, just maybe, having Blaine there is reassuring.

Well, Blaine hopes it is. He may have backed down the day he and Karofsky met, but that will not happen again. Things are different now. Blaine was sympathetic and diplomatic the first time around, because all he really knew of Karofsky was his secret. Blaine is over that now. His pain is no excuse, and taking his pain out on Kurt is inexcusable, anyway.

Blaine’s temper is rising. It doesn’t matter that Karofsky is bigger than both of them, because Blaine doesn’t care. Kurt spent so much time fighting alone that it sometimes doesn’t occur to him that he has someone on his team. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem fazed by the confrontation. But, again: things are different now. Blaine is by Kurt’s side in a completely different capacity than he was the first time, and he will be damned if he lets Karofsky hurt Kurt again.

Plus, Karofsky’s interest in Kurt isn’t just violent, it’s… well, it’s not something Blaine wants to see from someone who routinely tried to hurt his boyfriend. It makes him sick to his stomach if he thinks about it too long.

“Would you just give it up?” Blaine says, speaking up when Kurt doesn’t. He can see him standing still and collected in the corner of his vision, his wary eyes like a cat’s, ever-watchful on Karofsky’s face while his body remains passive. “You can live whatever lie you want, but don’t pretend the three of us don’t know what’s really going on here.”

Karofsky’s body tenses, his voice raises, he leans forward— “You don’t know squat, butt-boy!”

Blaine moves, literally beating Karofsky to the punch as he shoves him hard in the chest. There’s a flash of surprise on Karofsky’s face, but he recovers soon enough, grabbing hold of Blaine's jacket and getting in his space, pushing him right back—but Blaine is between him and Kurt, so this is fine.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, there's the scent of some spicy-sweet perfume—jasmine and pomegranate, maybe—and a wave of long black hair in between them, a slender body in red pushing them apart—

The gray statue that is Kurt, in the corner of Blaine's eye, has not moved, though he sounds furious as he calls Karofsky a coward—

And then, as quickly as it started, it's over, and Santana’s pressing forward into Karofsky’s space with aggression of her own.

Blaine breathes, and breathes, and breathes—Karofsky won't hit a girl, and the elephant in the hallway, “the truth” Kurt alluded to just a second ago, still hangs in the air. He won't threaten them further. He won't risk it.

Sure enough, seconds later, Karofsky makes a frustrated, defeated sort of noise, grunting violently as he turns and storms away, Santana taunting him as he goes. Then she, too, is gone, her whirlwind continuing down the hallway and into the choir room as she swears at something on her phone.

Kurt and Blaine both take a deep breath in the ringing silence.

“On with the show, hmm?” Kurt says, gently sliding his hand into Blaine's and leading him down the hallway towards the auditorium. He rubs his thumb against Blaine's wrist, and Blaine is surprised at how much the touch steadies him. After a moment, Kurt asks, “Are you okay?”

“He didn't hurt me, it was just him shoving back—”

“No, I mean…” Kurt licks his lips, searching for a way to describe it, then settles on scrunching his nose, baring his teeth and growling like a guard dog.

It’s adorable and ridiculous, and Blaine can’t help but shake his head at himself for coming off that way. “I was ready this time. I didn’t want him to hurt you, and, well… you’re a fighter, just not in that way.”

Kurt frowns, quietly holding Blaine’s gaze until the smile falls off his face, then says, “I’m not interested in violence, Blaine. I certainly don’t need it from you.”

He isn’t scolding Blaine, though that penetrating stare of his definitely achieves the same effect. Blaine looks at his feet and sighs. His temper’s still lying in wait, rumbling like agitated magma at his core, but the moment has passed and he knows he needs to calm down. “Sorry. If you’re okay, then I’m okay,” Blaine says. He’s not sure if that’s true, but he’s trying his best to make it so.

Kurt squeezes his hand, then quickly glances behind them before he leans in and kisses Blaine’s cheek. “We’ll beat the bullies together, okay? Just not like that.”

“Okay.” Blaine nods, clutching Kurt’s hand like an anchor. “Come on. Let’s get the good seats before they’re gone.”

 


End file.
